


Sometimes, We Have To Say Our Part

by QueenOfNewOrleans22



Series: The Silent Cries [12]
Category: Guns N' Roses
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Late Night Conversations, Memories, Past Abuse, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:01:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25564003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfNewOrleans22/pseuds/QueenOfNewOrleans22
Summary: In the middle of the night, Duff and Slash make a decision.
Relationships: Duff McKagan/Slash
Series: The Silent Cries [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1823191
Kudos: 8





	Sometimes, We Have To Say Our Part

The bed is cold. 

(And let's face it, Duff noticed the second that Slash slipped out of bed that something was wrong, but he'd given it time, just like he always did.) 

The clock reads that it's in that time between late night and early day, and the sky is an odd grey color. Duff is wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants, so the cold air seems into his bones, turning his blood to ice. It's a wonder that he manages to find his bathrobe (the one that he's been teased endlessly about) before turning into a snowman entirely. The thought brings a smile to Duff's face, one that almost makes him forget about the burning behind his eyes that signals a tire beyond exhaustion for a minute before he remembers why he's awake in the first place, and then he opens the doors to the balcony that leads out, into the bitterly cold air, and sees a certain curly-haired guitarist sitting on the railing in a way that only he seems to manage to do without falling, legs dangling, maybe lost in thought. There's rarely a variation in the reasons that, sometimes, Slash awakens in the night and walks away from the presumed safety of the bedroom and into the cold unknown. Because, in the end, that's what the world is. 

Nobody truly knows what's out there. Humanity just tries to survive in the open wasteland. 

"Hey, stranger." Slash is the first one to speak, voice rough and dull but with a light hint of an attempt to be flirtatious. His eyes don't rise to meet Duff's, but he sits up a little straighter. Unlike Duff, Slash is wearing a shirt and pants, socks, but his arms are crossed and slender fingers are curled around biceps to keep warm. Duff smiled thinly, and walks up to stand behind the railing, suddenly weary of the drop that the balcony looks over. "Must you always go to the most dangerous places?" Duff asked. Danger was Slash's calling card, and it was almost like he couldn't live without it. Chuckling softly, Slash swung his legs back over the railing. "Sorry. I just like the rush, adrenaline. I'm trying to do better with the drugs, you know." Slash said. Duff knows because he's trying to do better, too. Heart troubles are only one of the many worries that come along with what might happen if they continued using. 

Duff leaned against the railing. His alternative for drugs was working out, and that was his new poison of choice. Though chocolate was always a good way to go. "The bed is always so empty without you kicking me all night." Duff said, rubbing his thigh for effect. It never failed to spend hours all night getting kicked in the throes of sleep, but it was endearing, in a strange sort of way. "I couldn't sleep. I can't stop thinking." Slash replied. He sounded frustrated, and a little angry, though whether it was for himself or whoever else was a mystery. 

"About Axl?" Duff prompted. Goosebumps prickled at his arms despite the robe, and Duff shivered, receiving an expected look of sympathy from his lover. "Let's go inside." Slash slipped off the railing and landed on the ground of the balcony, barely making a sound before grabbing Duff's arm and pulling him inside. It's still cold, but much warmer than it'd been previously. Slash drags him over to the couch and forces him to sit down, face masked by the darkness. "I'm still expecting an explanation, you know." Duff said, fighting back a smile as Slash curls up close in as much of a cuddle as two rock stars can get, really. 

Slash smirks, but it soon fades. "Yes on the Axl part, but not entirely, my head is all messed up." He sniffs. Being cold is a good excuse to be close, pressed up against each other's bodies until they are practically one. "I was just thinking that I haven't ever gotten the chance to thank you." 

' _Thank me?'_ Duff is dumbfounded for a minute, and then he frowned. 

"I thought we talked about this. There's no need to thank me or repay me or any of that, okay?" Duff enunciated each word as much as he could. Slash leaned closer, his bony shoulder digging into Duff's chest in a way that is somehow both painful and comforting. "Right. And, anyways, I was also thinking to, y'know, distract myself, that maybe we should form our own band, if you want to." Slash suddenly becomes excited. "I mean, we were talking about it with Izzy but, we need the money and I don't know about you, but I'm starting to get bored as hell, so...?" 

It's an offer that Duff feels like he's been waiting his whole life for. Their own band. Their choices, their way. 

"Why not? But I get to name it this time." Duff said with as much firmness as he can muster, trying to get it across that he was serious about naming it, and Slash laughed. "Oh, yeah, I can see it plastered across L.A. The 'Duff McKagan band of misfits', charming." 

Duff pressed a chaste kiss to Slash's neck, pulling him closer. "No other way I'd rather have it." 


End file.
